


Stormwind Undercover: The Spy Who Shanked Me

by JaguarMirror



Series: Glass Bead Universe [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Humor, This Is Why You Shouldn't Let Mice And Me on the Same Planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarMirror/pseuds/JaguarMirror
Summary: Marcus the Paladin comes to town to research the new Marcus the Paladin Steamy Romance.  Flynn steals his notes, which includes a chapter notation “Doing the High King”.  Now he’s got to get Mathias Shaw to find and stop his old buddy before the king ends up in hot … printMeanwhile, the Stormwind tabloid press has also heard the story and wants interviews.I swear by all the gods that it's G-rated.  The whole thing.  Including the gryphons.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Glass Bead Universe [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916869
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	Stormwind Undercover: The Spy Who Shanked Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Mice for loaning me Vera VanDooble and the Stormwind This Week tabloid

Flynn Fairwind, eyes wild, hair flying, slammed the apartment door and leaned against it, panting. “Mathias we’ve got a problem. I mean a huge problem. As in Stormwind’s got a problem and maybe the Alliance and we’ve got to stop it right now! Because it’s a disaster!” He staggered over to the table and leaned his palms on it, panting. “Seriously. You’ve got to stop it.”

Mathias Shaw glanced up from the household budget ledger. “That bad? And how did this go from ‘we have to stop it’ to ‘I have to stop it’?” he said mildly. This had all the signs of some personal-type emergency and not a full city-and-kingdom emergency which would have started with a squad of guards storming through the door and Renzik and Lord Tony behind them yelling obscenities.

Flynn ran his hands through his hair. “Because I don’t even know where to start to stop it!” He yanked his leather coat off, tossing it on a chair. “I mean, I could start to stop it but all the things I came up with just made it worse.” He patted various pants pockets and looked in his coin pouch. After a moment he retrieved a number of stained and rumpled papers and waved them at Shaw. 

It was clear that the budget wasn’t going to get much attention. Shaw set down his pencil and stretched lazily. “Okay. Out with it -- from the top, mind you.”

Flynn took a deep breath and waved the manuscript pages. “You remember Marcus. My friend. The one who’s in all the romance novels?” 

“I remember some badly written pornography featuring a paladin called Marcus that caused quite a stir.” He attempted a sour glower. Flynn actually had the complete series stashed in what he thought was a fairly private place -- but no place inside any apartment of Mathias Shaw was truly hidden from the Spymaster. One of the volumes in the collection, “Jolly Rogering - a sequel to Stormy Seas”, was particularly well thumbed -- more recently by Shaw, who told himself that reading the book was simply a good way to become familiar with nautical terms and knots. He found that the occasional refresher reading helped cement some of the finer details in his mind.

Flynn fished through the pockets of his leather coat again and pulled out a small notebook. He tossed it on the table. “You remember me telling you it was mostly true?” 

Shaw also remembered Flynn claiming to be one of the characters both Jolly Rogering and Stormy Seas. “My memory’s not that bad.” 

“Well, I ran into Marcus -- actual Marcus -- today at the tavern. We had a few drinks. Well, more than a few drinks. I asked him what he was doing in town and he said it was research for the latest novel. And that he was going to give an interview to the Stormwind tabloid paper. Velma VanVoodoo or something.”

Shaw gritted his teeth. “Get. To. The. Point.”

Flynn took a deep breath. “He was showing me notebooks with his… uh… plan for the new book. There’s a bunch of things about what he wants to do and he wrote down chapter titles for the author. He’s got truly awful handwriting. Don’t see how he manages to read his own stuff a week later --”

“Flynn…”

“Anyway, I got really worried about the details so when he left to go meet Vampy VonPickledot or whoever, there was a sudden hole in one of his pockets and these might have fallen out. Possibly with some help, but you never know. Anyway, the book is titled ‘Doing Stormwind.’ At least I’m pretty sure that’s what it says. And while I like Marcus, I don’t think --”

The conversation was clearly going nowhere. Shaw grabbed the rumpled pages from Flynn’s hands, strode to the window, and held them up to the light and squinted. The handwriting was indeed poorly formed and it was hard to tell exactly what was going on underneath the probable food stains and beer mug rings and mysterious smudges that probably shouldn’t be closely analyzed. There was a page of chapter titles and a sheaf of notes referring to manuscript pages and a startling number of exotic sexual practices that Shaw had read about, along with a few others that he’d never heard of but was going to make note of for future reference. The word “Stormwind” showed up several times on every page, along with “keep” or perhaps “king” and some other descriptions, including one that he dearly hoped wasn’t “kingly baked buns.”

Flynn stabbed a finger at the rumpled pages. “See what I mean? Chapter 12. Looks like ‘Doing the High King’. Right there. Page 86. You’ve got to keep him away from the king and page 86.”

“But which king?”

“It’s _MARCUS_ , for Tide’s sake! All of the kings!” Flynn shouted, waving his hands. “And probably queens and nobles! He spilled ale all over that part and it’s just a runny mess but it’s obvious he’s got plans for kings!”

“I’m having a hard time --

“Don’t SAY that!!!’

“ -- difficulty seeing him and Genn together.”

Flynn gave him a pitying look. “Oh, Matthias. You don’t _know_ Marcus. Anyway, if you look at his notes, you can see he’s gotten through chapter one, _The Blue Balls of Recluse._ And he put the details in this notebook which probably should be preserved someplace safe. Really safe. For research purposes. But in order to stop him, we’ve got to figure out his next move. Or location, because I’m pretty sure I know most of his moves..”

Shaw leafed through the sheaf of papers and picked out one, holding it up. “I’m certain he hasn’t gotten to page 71. ‘Undercover Redhead or the Spy Who Shanked Me’ -- though I probably should check with Renzik. He had red hair. Once. I don’t think he’s shanked anyone recently, though.”

Flynn ignored the attempted humor and resumed pacing. “Okay. So he’s somewhere between page 18 and page 71. We can figure this out. Intercept him.” 

Shaw shook his head. “I’m not seeing much of a threat here. I haven’t seen anything particularly illegal so far, though a lot of it’s in questionable taste.”

“But the king!”

“...is an adult.” Shaw set the papers down with a firm thump. “If he wants to shank a paladin, I’m willing to let him.” He didn’t mention that at this point he wanted to shank a paladin himself, but the thought was there anyway.

Flynn stopped pacing long enough to scowl at the Spymaster. “You’re not taking this seriously, Mathias.” He selected a few pages from Shaw’s collection and scanned them intently. After a few seconds he stopped, eyes widened. “Mathias, are the gryphons acting strangely? Because there’s a chapter here about gryphons and I don’t think you want the details but if the flightmaster and the gryphons are acting oddly, there’s reasons.” 

Shaw started to reach for the notes and then thought better of it. “How should I know? They’re big and cranky and sometimes I don’t blame them for wanting to peck everyone within reach.”

“And the next chapter apparently got dropped in the mud but has maybe ‘king’ or ‘keep’ and ‘mile high club’.”

He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know, but a certain fatal fascination prompted him to ask, “The… ‘Mile High Club’?” 

Flynn didn’t look up from the pages that he was studying. “Oh come on. You know that one. Fly up high, get naked, jump and have sex in mid air. Paladin invokes Divine Shield a bit before you hit ground. Lots of thrills.”

It sounded terrifying. “Can they do that and live?”

“It’s paladins. You'd be surprised what they can do quickly,” Flynn said as he peered at another heavily stained page. "Now with priests and mages, you can take it a bit slower. Slow fall and all that. Not as exciting."

He eyed Flynn with just a touch of alarm. "You and I clearly have different standards for excitement. "

"It’s a very popular activity in some circles."

"Flynn…That's entirely too much information."

"It's a lot colder, you know, with priests. It’s all that slow fall stuff. I wonder how long Anduin’s slow fall spell lasts. Or how slow it is. Anybody know?"

Shaw made a desperate attempt to derail that particular train of thought. "I thought paladins were supposed to be champions of the Light. How does the Light figure into this?” 

Flynn regarded him with pitying bemusement. “Well what Marcus does makes people very happy. Usually. And the Light makes people happy.” 

“And paladins throwing people off gryphons makes them happy?”

“It makes the gryphons happy because they can quit flapping around and go back to their roosts. And it makes the people happy after a few terrifying seconds.”

“This whole thing makes my head hurt.”

Flynn turned his page over. “Well, I’m about to make your head hurt more. It’s hard to read around the mud, but I think he wants the king to be part of the Mile High Club. Tentacles are mentioned.”

At this point, taking a knife to a certain plate-wearing paragon of perfection was starting to sound like the perfect ending to the day’s events. Shaw stood up and reached for his daggers. “I think I’m going to make his fantasy of being shanked by a redhead come true.”

Flynn’s eyes brightened. “Oooh! Can I watch?”

“No.”

Flynn gave an exaggerated sigh as Shaw strapped on his corset and pauldrons and began setting an assortment of knives in their sheaths. “Mathias,” he said softly, “be careful. Remember, he’s a paladin.”

Shaw tapped his favorite sap against his palm. “I'm sure I can make him see the light.”

=========

Mathias Shaw stalked the halls of SI:7 headquarters, scowling, after what felt like a particularly pointless scavenger hunt all over Stormwind. Hints about the second chapter led him to a tailor shop where he’d been greeted very cheerfully and was told that Marcus had left with his companion about 90 minutes ago. He was also handed a message from Vera VanDooble, reporter from the _Stormwind This Week_ tabloid, asking if he had any comment on a rumor about a certain spy’s involvement with an upcoming erotic book featuring Stormwind itself.

He left with a growl. The next place on the chapter list was a well-known leather working shop that did specialty armor. The owner and staff, who seemed unusually happy, told him that he’d just missed the famous Marcus, then tried to sell him a leather muzzle designed for a human and as an afterthought handed him a message from Vera VanDooble asking to comment on the rumor that spies wore spiked leather dog collars and dog tags under their regular gear. 

At the Gallina Winery, the third stop, the vintners were far happier to see him than could possibly be expected. He was told that they were very sorry that he had just missed the delightful paladin, but a Miss VanDooble left a message asking what kind of silk ropes SI:7 used for their more important captives and Roberto Pupellyverbos whispered something to him about corkage that was going to take a lot of wine to forget.

He avoided the gryphon roost on general principles. You didn’t survive long enough to be Spymaster by making that kind of rash move -- besides, if the roost needed investigation he could always send Lord Tony, who might be improved by a short walk off of a tall gryphon.

By the time he’d visited the seventh location, he was feeling seriously stabby and had collected a list of questions that the tabloid wanted answered, including one about Renzik’s curtains and rugs. Vera VanDooble moved a number of notches higher on the list of “people who need to suddenly and permanently disappear from Stormwind.”

He glanced at the next four chapter titles and immediately decided that he needed to cut the tour short. At some point, Marcus’ wanderings were going to take him to SI:7. The most sensible thing to do would be to wait there, inventory the various potions and poisons, put points on all the pointed objects, and find the most uncomfortable chair in the building to set in front of his desk. With those cheerful thoughts uppermost in his mind, he headed back toward Old Town.

Osborne, the operative in charge of the night shift, greeted him with a dazed smile. “Ooooh! Spymaster Shaw,” he fluttered, batting his eyelashes.

“Osborne.” There was an odd odor in the air near the operative. Shaw took a step back and sniffed again, carefully. The perfume was indeed familiar - Love Potion Number H(uman)-9, created two seasons ago. He made a mental note to not send any more of the Stormwind Champions on quests to destroy the stockpiles, no matter how grand the champions were. 

He was still pondering what kind of leverage he could use on Velen and the Lightforged to get them to move the _Vindicarr_ so that they could nuke the chemicals from orbit when Osborne sidled up to him and said in a husky voice, “You shouldn’t linger out here. You have a _very special_ visitor.”

“Just the one?” 

“Yes. Sadly. He doesn’t have a twin brother, you know, and that’s just truly heartbreaking. Although I don’t think any city could stand that much perfection in one place at one time. I think things would implode.”

Things suddenly looked a lot better. “Is he ... in my office?”

“I think so. Lord Tony was giving him the _full tour_ ”

“I see.” Shaw added another name to his mental list of ‘people to stab just for the sheer satisfaction of it when you run out of things to do.’

“Shall I go tell him you’re ...coming?” Osborne cooed.

“I’m not coming just yet. I have to go see Doc Mixilpixil about a potion.”

“Oooh! See if he’s got more Swiftthistle tea!” Osborne shouted as he descended the stairs. “I’m going to need a bit more energy for the next round!”

==========

Shaw eased the door of his office open and nodded to Doc Mixilpixil, SI:7’s potions specialist. The small white-haired gnome stepped forward, stuck the fogger nozzle in front of him, and pulled the lever. An engine roared and purred and Shaw’s office filled up with a thick white fog. Someone shouted and started cursing and there was a sound as if someone knocked over furniture. Doc slammed the door shut and Shaw stepped in to lock it.

“How long?”

“Give it about four minutes,” Doc said as he picked up his spraying machine. “There won’t be a trace of the perfumes anywhere in the office or on anyone in the office.” He stumped off toward his basement office, whistling tunelessly as Shaw went in search of the Least Most Comfortable Chair in SI;7. The quest took a full five minutes and by the time he was back at his office, the cursing and thumping had faded, replaced by the sound of snoring.

He opened the door silently and placed the chair in front of his desk. Then he held the vial of ammonia underneath the paladin’s flawlessly flared nostrils.

Marcus suddenly sat upright. Shaw hauled him over to the chair and dumped him there.

“Mathias Shaw!” he gasped. “Uhm…. what happened?”

“I neutralized the hormonal attraction perfume you were wearing.”

“Was that the fog? There was a lot of fog.” He pouted. “I could have died!”

“Only if you’re allergic to the antidote.” Shaw seated himself at the desk, where the carefully arranged lighting highlighted all the sparkly, pointy bits on his armor. He steepled his fingers and stared belligerently at Marcus. “Now that the air has been… cleared… tell me about this chapter called ‘Doing the High King.’”

Marcus’ perfectly proportioned nose wrinkled as he sniffed the sleeve of his shirt. “What was in that antidote, anyway?”

“Trade secret. Now, about that chapter...”

“There’s no such chapter.” He paused, tilted his head thoughtfully, and said, “There’s one called ‘Doing the High Kink’ which you probably don’t want to know about since it involves potions and… things. Maybe tentacles. Or clams, if you’re in the mood.” He gestured vaguely and then sat up with a perfectly perky smile as several orphaned connections made a sudden link in his mind. “Oh, wait a minute! Does the High King need some help?”

“No.”

“Oh, I would be so delighted to take that sweet blond bundle for a ride! That hair! Those eyes! Those broad shoulders! And I would just love to check the contents of that armor of his!” His eyes sparkled as he pulled out a pencil and reached for the notes. “I wonder if he’s into leather boots.” 

Shaw’ hand pinned his wrist against the table. “Don’t. Even. Try.”

Marcus licked his perfect lips. “Oh, Mathias, I’ve heard some rumors that he doesn’t have any bed partners and that he’s getting terribly repressed and depressed and frustrated. It’s the duty of the Light to help those in need.”

“If he needs help, I’ll handle it,” Shaw growled.

“Oooh! Can I watch?”

“No.”

“Can I help Flynn while _he_ watches?”

“Absolutely not. And if you get within 40 meters of the king -- _any king_ \-- I will lock you up for the next twenty years.”

Marcus sighed with delight. “Oh, Mathias -- an intimate little prison with all those lovely guards! Such tasty armor, too. I can be all yours to do whatever you like -- perhaps a little tie-me-up and spank me play? The idea of being hostage to a sexy Spymaster thrills me. We could write a book.” He glanced around the room and leaned in and whispered, “We can write a whole series of books!” 

Shaw stood abruptly and loomed over the table. “I’ll do more than thrill you, Marcus,” he growled. “If you’re not out of this city by evening, I’ll…”

“Tie me up and let me show you the Light?”

“I’ll introduce you to the legal system.”

Marcus blinked in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

Shaw slitted his eyes and gave the paladin a hard smile. “The main author lives in Boralus, as we all know. I’ll look him up and then find all his tax receipts and send them to his family with copies to the Kul Tiras tax collector. I’m figuring he owes you a lot of royalty shares and he owes the Kul Tiras treasury about five years of back taxes. They’ll want to talk to you and find out how much you were paid for your stories and then they’re going to want to look at your ledgers right about the time his family disowns him and his distant relatives start arguing who will get his estate after he’s been assassinated. And then I’ll do the same for his coauthors.”

The paladin’s attention was laser focused on a single word. “Ledgers?”

“Yes. You know; accounts of money you received and paid. You do have receipts and records, right?”

“Uh…records?” he squeaked. The perfect pale skin was definitely three shades paler now.

Shaw continued blithely, “Now, since you’re Lighbound, I’m sure you paid taxes. So the courts are going to ask for a list of your partners and your receipts. And they’ll ask SI:7 to confirm, because you mention both Horde and Alliance and that could be risky to the crown. So we’ll have to investigate. Just imagine what that will do to your… bottom line.” 

Marcus shifted on the hard wooden chair, looking uncomfortable. “Uhm….”

“And while I’m very good at keeping secrets, you can be very certain that the courts won’t be. The tabloids will get copies of some of the information and will start doing interviews and uncovering aliases. And a lot of those whose aliases get uncovered -- like a certain Dalaran warlock who seems to have a lot of demons around -- will be very very upset that their secret is out. And they’ll look for someone to blame.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

Marcus paled. 

“I figure the fallout from this should last about six years or so, don’t you? Maybe longer, if that reporter Vera VanDooble and the _Stormwind This Week_ tabloid decide to run a series featuring interviews and outtakes with every single one of your partners. I'm sure that the parts that didn't make it in the book have some _interesting_ details.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t.”

Shaw smoothed his mustache. “You might be a servant of the Light. I’m a servant of ‘whatever happens to work. So -- here’s the deal. You can forget about this book idea and leave every scrap of paper you have relating to that novel here and go far away and have a nice long vacation with playmates or we can start walking it through the legal system. Your choice.”

Marcus carefully placed two notebooks and a wad of papers on the table. Shaw watched silently, unblinking. Marcus sighed, pulled another notebook out of his pants pocket, set it beside the others. 

“Spymaster.” He rose and gave a slight bow. “I hear the Swamp of Sorrows is very nice this time of year.”

“It’s lovely,” Shaw reassured him. “Say hello to the spiders for me.”


End file.
